This past Saturday, I learned that
a friend of mine died in a car crash while returning from a concert in Nashville .
Initially, I was shocked, and then about an hour or so later, the grief set in,
followed by a number of questions. I couldn’t stop thinking about her kids and
wondering if they were alright, etc. It was surreal.
My friend’s name was Cynthia, and
she was instrumental in allowing my Speakeasy open-mic to move in to the spot
she bartended and booked shows at. We immediately indoctrinated her into the
fold, and she quickly became Speakeasy family. After a while, I gave her a
microphone to keep behind the bar, and we’d go back and forth throughout the
night each week. I started calling her Big Mama, and it was a very fitting
nickname, because for friends and family, she was immensely loving and
generous.
Over the years, our paths kind of
diverted a little bit when Speakeasy left the bar she worked at. If you’ve
followed this blog, you know that I’ve committed more into following my art and
the opportunities that it has afforded me. During that time, Cynthia became a
staunch advocate for autism awareness. She’s been instrumental in putting on a
number of fundraisers for the cause, and I was extremely proud of her for
pursuing her passion.
What is so troubling about losing
her is the timing. Less than two weeks ago, she celebrated her anniversary. The
day after she passed, an event called Pints for Autism III took place that she’d
played a vital role in bringing to fruition. She and I, during our last
conversation, had made tentative plans to see each other there.
Last Thursday, I performed at The
Hunter, and one of the poems in my set is called How We Celebrate. It’s about
celebrating Hip-Hop culture, but also about celebrating yourself. I told the
audience that another day isn’t promised, and with that in mind, it’s vital to
celebrate the things and people that we have in our lives while we have them. I
had no idea that that statement would hit home so hard in only a matter of
days. None of us ever really do though, do we?
I, like many others, am extremely
saddened by her passing and the manner by which it occurred. However, I am
elated to have known her, to have made her smile, laugh, and to have had her
touch my life. I never once had a bad time with Cynthia. She’s a tremendous
spirit, and I couldn’t be more pleased by the woman that she was.